True Love's Kiss
by maegerakawaii
Summary: After the final battle and the fall of Voldemort, Harry falls unconscious and no one knows why or how to wake him up. Draco Malfoy is Harry's secret nightly visitor and the key to Harry waking up, unbeknownst to Draco himself.
1. Prologue

This is mainly a DM/HP story and it will also be eventually mpreg (Top Draco, Bottom Harry). If that is not your cup of tea, I suggest not even bothering to read any more. This fic will also be my very first fanfic, so I would appreciate constructive criticism to make me a better writer. Updates are going to be quite erratic, since I have quite an unstable schedule.

Summary: After the final battle and the fall of Voldemort, Harry falls unconscious and no one knows why or how to wake him up. Draco Malfoy is Harry's secret nightly visitor and the key to Harry waking up, unbeknownst to Draco himself. A new evil is lurking and biding his time in the wake of the previous Dark Lord's fall. Draco and Harry are the only ones who could stop this new malevolent presence, but they might also be the key to his rise to power in the first place.

Prologue

Ten days have passed since the defeat of the Dark Lord. The celebration and the revelry would have already been underway if not for the fact that the savior of the wizarding world was still lying unconscious in the Hogwarts infirmary.

Harry Potter was currently lying on one of the uncomfortable looking infirmary beds, his hair its usual messy style. Without the ugly thick frames on, it was easier to see the delicate features of his angelic face. The moonlight streaming in from the window at the head of the bed made his pale skin glow. His face looked absolutely relaxed, as if he was only peacefully slumbering for the night instead of experiencing a sort of enchanted sleep brought on by supposed magical exhaustion from the final battle.

Every other bed in the room was devoid of patients and there was no sign of the infirmary's resident mediwitch or Harry's concerned friends and allies anywhere. The only things keeping the boy company were the small tokens of gratitude from countless admirers and well-wishers. There were numerous pots of magical flowers on each side table beside the bed. At the foot of the bed there were boxes of chocolate frogs, bags of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, some licorice wands, and all manner of sweet treats one could find in Honeyduke's. There were even some of the previous headmaster's favorite lemon drops. To the right and on top of the other bed next to Harry's were some of the more peculiar gifts. One wizard sent Harry a miniature 'Harry Potter' statue holding the Elder wand, which shot green and red sparks from the tip every few seconds. A witch gave him a magic mirror that told the user whatever he or she needed to hear. Other gifts like glowing dress robes, talking shrunken heads, and a mask adorned with diamonds and emeralds were part of the ever-growing pile. But even with all the presents surrounding him, the wizarding world's savior did not even stir in his sleep.

A muggle watch lying among the flower pots showed that the time was around midnight. As Harry's enchanted rest continued, he did not notice the infirmary door opening slightly and a lone figure slipping in. The person stayed close to the shadowed walls while moving toward Harry's bed. The individual's face stayed hidden in shadow but a hand even paler than Harry's reached out and caressed the unconscious boy's cheek. Then the hand grasped one of Harry's and squeezed slightly.

A small, raspy voice came out of the shadows and whispered to the sleeping boy on the bed. "Please, Potter, wake up. You're stronger than this. Wake up! Please!"

The pale hand squeezed Harry's one more time. And out of the shadows came the face of Draco Malfoy. But the blonde boy looked nothing like his usual pristine self. It was almost as if he was reliving his sixth year with the disheveled hair and robes and the obvious faded gray bags under his eyes. Yet even as unkempt as Draco looked, he did not seem to care for or even take notice of his appearance. His silver-grey eyes solely focused on the unconscious boy on the bed. Other than Draco's obvious lapse in personal care, however, something else seemed different about the Slytherin Prince. Ignoring the absence of the usually well-groomed Malfoy heir, Draco appeared to have grown quite a bit. Not only was the young man now standing half a foot taller, his shoulders have also grown broader and even fully covered by loose, billowing robes his body appeared to have gained some more muscle. But these changes seemed insignificant when one looked into his eyes and saw that the spoiled and cruel boy was gone and has been replaced by a young man who knew the pain of loss and was struggling not to break. Yet amid the torrential emotions in those haunted eyes, there was an unnamed feeling lying dormant. Draco eventually raised Harry's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. As he laid Harry's hand gently back on the bed, he whispered, "Please wake up soon." He then went back into the shadows and headed for the infirmary door.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sunlight through the windows shone down on the sleeping savior, yet he still did not awaken. The infirmary doors opened and in walked Madame Pomfrey. She looked toward the sleeping Harry and walked over to his bed.

She looked down at the boy's peaceful face and smiled gently, but there was a hint of sadness and maternal concern in her eyes. She reached inside the folds of her mediwitch robes for her wand and held it over Harry's body. She then performed a series of diagnostic spells but Harry's body showed no negative reactions. She performed a few more tests and noted the results. Even though Harry was still unconscious, Madame Pomfrey's tests seemed to find him physically healthy. Most of the test results have remained the same as they were when Harry first arrived unconscious. Madame Pomfrey only paid attention to the subtle changes in Harry's condition.

"What's wrong, Potter? Why won't you wake up?" The woman felt silly talking to her unconscious patient. But she kept hearing Hermione say that muggles constantly talk to patients who refuse to wake. Madame Pomfrey then remembered what Hermione said yesterday. 'In the muggle world doctors encourage family and friends to talk to comatose patients and give them a reason to wake up.'

As Madame Pomfrey kept that tidbit of information in mind she looked down at Harry again and tried to talk to him once more. "Mr. Potter, the wizarding world is in mourning instead of celebrating because you haven't awoken yet. So many lives have been lost already. We can't lose you as well."

Harry still did not stir and Madame Pomfrey heaved a loud sigh. "Perhaps you don't wish to hear such sad news." 'If I were the boy I don't think I'd want to wake up to a world where many of my loved ones have already died either.' "Well then, Mr. Potter, I'll have you know that if you don't wake up soon you might miss out on a possible upcoming wedding between Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Sleep any longer and you could very well miss out on little Teddy saying his first word or walking. Miss Weasley is also looking lovelier by the day, so you should…" And still Harry made no indication of waking up.

"Now, listen here, young man. If you don't wake up soon I'll make you drink the vilest potions imaginable!" Even the upset mediwitch's threat had no effect on her unresponsive patient. Once more she sighed forlornly. "Very well. Maybe later you'll wake up when your friends come to visit again."

And just as Madame Pomfrey mentioned Harry's friends, the doors to the infirmary opened once again. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley walked in hand-in-hand with Ginny Weasley trailing behind the couple. They all looked solemn as they headed over to Harry's bed. When they reached their sleeping friend Hermione let go of Ron's hand and took one of Harry's frail looking hands in both of hers. Ginny moved around the bed and took Harry's other hand. All three simply looked at Harry expectantly for a while, taking absolutely no notice of the mdeiwitch standing close by. And when they saw that he remained asleep, their expectant faces slowly turned disheartened. Hermione was the first to break the oppressive silence as she finally seemed to notice that they had an audience to their daily moment of disappointment.

"Oh! Good morning, Madame Pomfrey. Please forgive our rudeness. We should have greeted you earlier." As Hermione said this, Ginny and Ron finally seemed to notice Madame Pomfrey standing by the bed as well. Both looked sheepish as they too belatedly greeted her with a mumbled "good morning."

The mediwitch did not look at all affronted. She simply smiled tenderly at the group. "That's perfectly alright, dears. I know you are very worried about your friend, Mr. Potter." Since the day Harry arrived at the infirmary Madame Pomfrey had seen the three Gryffindors visit the boy everyday. Even though many of the Hogwarts students have returned to the castle already after the end of the war, only these three students were Harry's constant visitors. They would come early in the morning and leave late at night until she had to usher them out. These three also took it upon themselves to entertain Harry's other visitors and accept their gifts, their gratitude, and even their condolences. Madame Pomfrey knew that Harry's condition has taken a huge toll on his friends, so sometimes she checked the three over to see if they have been keeping themselves healthy instead of making themselves sick with worry. And now as she looked at them she noticed the redness of Hermione's eyes and the girl's slightly puffy cheeks. Ron, despite all the previous times the mediwitch had seen him do so, has not eaten a single bite of the sweets that Harry has received. And so the woman suspected that Ron might have lost some weight, making the overly tall boy look even lankier. Ginny Weasley, on the other hand, looked healthy, but the mediwitch was unwilling to take chances with any student's health.

"Well, you three, before I tell you how Mr. Potter is doing today, how about I have a look at all of you first?" At the sign of protest from the group, Madame Pomfrey immediately silenced any objection with a stern gaze. She then looked at Ron directly and gestured toward her desk at the end of the room, opposite the doors. "Come along now, Mr. Weasley. You first." She saw that Ron looked reluctant to leave Harry's side and added, "Not to worry, dear. Mr. Potter will still be there when you return."

Ron looked down at the mediwitch's authoritative stare and resignedly followed after her. One by one Madame Pomfrey examined the Gryffindors. After she was satisfied with her health evaluations she finally talked to them about Harry. The four of them gathered around Harry's bed and discussed his condition.

"Physically, Mr. Potter is healthy. His vitals are stable and all tests for physical damage both internal and external are negative. He will have no lasting injuries when he wakes up and he will suffer no permanent magical effects. His wounds have healed nicely with no scarring. I have also checked his head for any brain damage that might be causing his unconsciousness and all tests are negative. Perhaps the only thing wrong with his physical health is minor weight loss, but even that is not a major concern. The only thing remotely alarming about his state is that he has somehow gotten smaller." At this statement the three friends gave Madame Pomfrey confused looks.

Hermione voiced the group's confusion. "What do you mean by _smaller_, Madame Pomfrey? Like Harry somehow shrunk? Is that what's keeping him from waking up?"

"Well, Ms. Granger, the only conclusive thing I could tell you is that Mr. Potter has somehow gotten a couple inches shorter. Never in all my years as a mediwitch have I seen that happen unless it was caused by a spell or potion or was some sort of magical side effect. But none of those apply to what is happening with Mr. Potter. You might have been too worried to notice this in the past couple of days but it seems that Mr. Potter's frame has also become much more, shall we say, compact. His torso is not quite as broad as it used to be anymore. From what I've gathered when I performed tests on him this morning, however, the changes are slowing down and are close to finishing."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

"I'm afraid I do not know the answer to that, Mr. Weasley. We can simply hope that means Mr. Potter will be ready to wake up soon," Madame Pomfrey responded.

For a moment everyone gathered around the bed was silent as each glanced down at Harry's serene face. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione finally noticed the subtle changes in Harry. Not only was he slightly smaller, his unruly locks seemed glossier, his lips were fuller and were rosier by a few shades, and his complexion was just a bit fairer. He also seemed to be emanating some sort of very faint glow. Not one of them knew what exactly was happening to Harry but all of them were hoping they would be able to see those striking green eyes open once again.

After a while Madame Pomfrey excused herself from the group and headed over to her desk. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione made themselves comfortable around Harry's bed. They prepared for a long day of receiving Harry's endless visitors, ranging from fellow students to witches and wizards allowed on school grounds for the purpose of visiting the sleeping savior. Of course other magical creatures were welcome to visit as well, provided that they do no harm to the students and would actually fit through the castle doors. The three Gryffindors stayed with Harry until Madame Pomfrey declared visiting hours were finally over.

***** DMHP *****

A couple hours after Harry's friends left and Madame Pomfrey finally retired for the night, the infirmary doors opened slightly to once again admit Harry's nightly visitor. Draco stayed close to the shadowed walls as he approached Harry's bed. When he reached Harry he took one of the boy's hands into both of his and stared at the peacefully sleeping boy's face. Draco continued to look at Harry for a few moments. Then he hopped onto the edge of Harry's bed, not once letting go of his hold on the brunette's much smaller hand. Draco contented himself with just staying by Harry's side, watching the beautiful sleeping face and the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of the boy's chest as he breathed softly.

"I hear you have more and more visitors coming to see you everyday, Potter. You see? People are very worried about you. Don't you like making people happy? So, you really should wake up." Draco continued to talk to Harry about anything he could think of. The one-sided conversation went from new brooms displayed at the Quidditch shop on Diagon Alley to Draco helping with the rebuilding effort after the war. His family's last minute defection from Voldemort may have prevented his being sentenced to Azakaban but his guilt and regret, not to mention all the atrocities he witnessed while in the 'care' of his Aunt Bella, caused him to finally accept his compassionate side and help those who are less fortunate after the war.

"I usually see Weasel, Weaslette, and the Mudblood visit you. Granger always looks like she's been crying all night and Weasel doesn't even stuff his face at every meal time anymore. Even the Weaslette doesn't go gallivanting off with any male she finds attractive lately. Do you really want to trouble them so much?" Draco may be helping with the rebuilding effort and trying to be more compassionate, but he was still far from being a nice and friendly guy.

"You know, Weasel and Mudblood are growing closer. But if you don't wake up soon, they might worry about you too much to even move forward in their relationship. Do you really want to stop your friends from being happy? Come on, Potter, you'd never want that to happen." Harry just continued to sleep and Draco continued to ramble. "I'll even make a deal with you. If you wake up soon I'll even stop calling them Mudblood and Weasel. You always did hate it when I called them that. Sorry. Old habits die hard, but I'll try harder if you promise to wake up."

A few hours passed with just Draco talking to Harry and Harry just lying still. When Harry still refused to open his eyes after all of Draco's efforts at conversation, the blonde Slytherin sighed heavily and hopped off the bed. He looked at Harry one more time. And again he kissed the back of Harry's hand just as he had done every night he has visited since the end of the war. "Even if you won't wake up for your fans, at least wake up for those that care for you. Wake up for the sake of your friends. Wake up for…" _Me_. As Draco's sentence trailed off, he released Harry's hand and glanced out the window briefly. It was close to sunrise and he knew he had to leave. If the mediwitch and Potter's friends saw him there, they might not be too happy with him. And so Draco mumbled a short farewell to Harry and left the sleeping boy alone in the infirmary once again.

***** DMHP *****

Meanwhile, somewhere in Knockturn Alley a pair of red eyes was watching the very few passersby from the shadow of an old, dilapidated shop. As the dark figure slowly emerged, it became clear that it was a handsome young man with jet black hair and pale skin. He was tall and slender. An elderly witch passed him by and he smiled at her, making his handsome face look even more charming. The witch's eyes grew wide for a second before she bowed her head to hide her blush as she continued on her way. When he knew that the witch could no longer see him, the young man's charming smile suddenly turned into a sinister smirk. He walked through the dawn's earliest light in search of a particular dark arts shop, Borgin and Burke's.

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><p>Thanks for reading. I would greatly appreciate reviews to let me know how I'm doing. I tend to write better when I have ideas to bounce off of. Hope you're enjoying the story so far and stay tuned for more.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"The changes in Mr. Potter have finally stopped this morning," Madame Pomfrey told the three Gryffindors who were once again gathered around Harry's bed. When the three entered the infirmary that morning they were just in time to see Madame Pomfrey finishing her daily examination of Harry.

"Does that mean he should be waking up soon, Madame Pomfrey?" asked Hermione.

"Let's hope so, dear." Madame Pomfrey then proceeded to tell the group of the details of her findings. The discussion continued for a few minutes until the mediwitch excused herself to attend to other tasks. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione then prepared for another long day of waiting to see if Harry would finally wake up or not.

As they sat around their sleeping friend the three Gryffindors talked about the goings on in school. Hermione was bemoaning the fact that even though they were back in school regular school sessions were not to resume until the next school year. Those who were on their seventh year during the war were invited to repeat the year due to the fact that their learning was hindered by hostile school conditions. Ginny merely listened and added her opinion every now and then. The group seemed to have regained some semblance of the normalcy before Harry fell unconscious, talking and laughing over anything that came to mind. There was a feeling of lightheartedness until Ron spoke again. "Did you see the Ferret this morning? It was hilarious when he spewed out his breakfast on Goyle. Goyle looked like he himself was going to puke. Everyone at the Slytherin table looked a little green after that little incident." For a moment Ron looked pleased while relating his amusement over Malfoy's breakfast scandal and he completely ignored Hermione's weak reprimand, only paying attention to Ginny's quiet giggle. Then in the next instant he turned solemn as he said, "I just wish Harry were awake to have seen that too and have a good laugh over it." And immediately the cheerful atmosphere disappeared and was replaced by an air of disappointment and slight desperation.

No one spoke another word until the infirmary doors opened to admit a couple around their mid-thirties. The woman carried a bouquet of flowers while her husband carried with him a roll of some sort of really thick material. It might have been a carpet. Immediately the three around Harry's bed realized that it was time for them to start entertaining the first of Harry's numerous guests for the day. The day went on with the three friends just chatting with Harry's visitors and receiving their gifts.

***** DMHP *****

In another part of the castle, somewhere in the dungeons, one Draco Malfoy was bent double with an arm leaning against a wall, trying not to collapse from the pain he felt throughout his body. Draco felt as if all the muscles in his body were ripping apart and his bones were breaking. His blood was boiling and his skin felt like it was melting. He was sweating profusely from the excruciating pain and his throat felt so dry it was starting to feel raw. He started dry-heaving and he could taste hints of copper coming up from his throat. His breath was shallow and erratic and the lack of oxygen was making him light-headed. And all of a sudden the pain subsided and Draco fell against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. All that was left of the pain was an odd tingling sensation throughout his body. His skin was also left feeling dry and he wanted to scratch at any part of himself that he could reach, but he did not have any strength to even regulate his breathing yet. The young man stayed on the floor with his head leaning back on the wall for a while. He looked absolutely haggard as his eyes slowly closed and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

When Draco awoke, he had no knowledge of how long he was out for. Although the tingling echoes of the pain were completely gone, he still felt just mildly sore and his skin was still irritatingly itchy. When he drew back a sleeve to scratch at his arm, he felt the skin was not only dry, it was rough and almost scaly feeling. However, Draco was more concerned about the pain possibly coming back so he just let it go. He got up from the floor and straightened his robes a bit before he continued on to the Slytherin dorms. He was named Head Boy at the start of term so he got an even better room than the one he used to have as a Prefect. When he finally entered his room and saw the inviting bed, exhaustion from his earlier ordeal finally caught up with him and he just collapsed on top of the covers.

Hours later Draco awoke and the first thing he noticed was the absence of sunlight streaming in through his bedroom windows. It was already very dark outside and he couldn't hear the usual hum of conversation coming from the common room, which meant most of the Slytherins have already retired for the night. As he sat up, Draco drew his wand out and casted a tempus charm. It showed that the time was slowly approaching midnight, so he carefully rose from bed and started for the door. It was once again time for his nightly infirmary visit.

As Draco drew nearer to the infirmary, the tingling sensation came back. It wasn't painful and it wasn't uncomfortable, it was simply just odd. The young man ignored it in favor of the prospect of seeing the lone patient of the infirmary once more. He opened the infirmary doors slightly and crept in quietly. He stuck close to the shadowed walls just in case there was someone else other than the sleeping Harry in the room. When Draco saw that there was no one else in the infirmary he hurried to Harry's bedside.

When he reached Harry's side he looked at the boy for a few moments and he didn't even realize that this time he had an almost imperceptible smile on his face. As he looked at the sleeping boy's face a while longer he couldn't help but finally start noticing the subtle differences in Harry. Draco thought Harry looked simply angelic lying peacefully on the bed and his eyes could not stop lingering on the boy's rosy lips. As he continued to stare, Draco suddenly realized his train of thought and shook his head to clear it. 'Did I just really think about how kissable Harry Potter's lips looked? Of course not. That's just preposterous.' As Draco thought this the tolerable tingling sensation he felt increased tenfold, just enough to make it quite uncomfortable. When Draco looked at the sleeping Harry again, his eyes were once again drawn to Harry's lips. "What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" he said out loud and the discomfort kept increasing.

"Well, Potter, it seems this visit has to be cut short." Draco just brushed his fingers against Harry's cheek briefly and quickly moved back toward the infirmary doors. All the while the uncomfortable tingling sensation was slowly turning into unbearable pain once more. Draco gritted his teeth as he tried to run to his dorm room, the pain hindering his movement greatly. When he finally made it into his room he used what was left of his waning strength to cast a silencing charm. Right as he finished the charm he dropped his wand as he clutched around his chest from the agonizing pain, falling to the floor in the process. Draco was biting his bottom lip so hard to keep from screaming that he started feeling metallic tasting liquid trickle down his chin for his efforts. When the pain increased to an excruciating extent, Draco finally let out a scream. For the rest of the night Draco Malfoy was on his bedroom floor writhing and screaming until he finally passed out from the pain.

***** DMHP *****

The dark-haired youth was once again lurking around Knockturn Alley. He had already been to Borgin and Burke's, but the shopkeepers were being most unhelpful. The bumbling men were certainly more than happy to display their wares, but they had yet to show the handsome youth some of their more 'special' items. And so the young man decided that he would hang around Knockturn Alley for a while and check out the other shops and come by Borgin and Burke's everyday to chat up the owners. Surely he could charm his way into earning their trust. And so with this goal in mind, the young man wandered around Knockturn Alley for some time.

***** DMHP *****

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were once again visiting Harry in the infirmary. They were currently watching Madame Pomfrey perform some diagnostic spells on their unconscious friend, noting that the mediwitch seemed concerned over some of her results. The three Gryffindors, however, knew better than to interrupt her as she worked on their friend. She would tell them soon enough of her findings.

When Madame Pomfrey finished with her daily check up of Harry, she turned to the other three in the room with a slightly worried look on her face. Before they could ask her what was wrong she started on her daily report. "Mr. Potter's temperature seems to be quite a bit higher than what's normal. Other than the slightly elevated temperature he is perfectly alright."

"Do you know what's causing the sudden spike in his temperature, Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked.

"Much like the cause of his unconsciousness, dear, I'm afraid I don't really know. All I can really do is try to reduce his temperature. But it doesn't seem like it is hurting him. And I don't sense any discomfort in him. He still appears to be sleeping peacefully. I don't think it is any cause for alarm much like all the other changes in Mr. Potter." As the mediwitch continued to discuss with and reassure the Gryffindors, the first few of Harry's daily visitors finally arrived. Madame Pomfrey excused herself from the group and the three were once again thrust into the roles of reluctant hosts. Throughout the day Madame Pomfrey checked for Harry's temperature and found that it was rising gradually. The boy still displayed no outward negative signs in regards to his increasing temperature so Madame Pomfrey settled for simply monitoring the boy.

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><p>Thank you for reading. In the next chapter we find out what is actually going on with Draco. Harry also finally wakes up.<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

Thank you to **Nerdy Slytherin** and **MirrorFlower and DarkWind** for being my first reviewers. It made me really happy. And for those who are still reading this story, please enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

Almost three weeks after the start of Harry's troubling predicament Minerva McGonagall sat in her office with a perturbed expression on her normally stern countenance. She was reading the front page of the day's issue of the Daily Prophet. A couple of the past headmasters were still in their portraits in the new headmistress' office and so were also reading the paper over her tense shoulders. There in big, bold, glowing red script at the top of the page the scandalous headline of the article by Rita Skeeter read **"Hero Still Unconscious: The Dark Lord's Last Victory or the Light's Hidden Agenda Coming to Fruition?"**

_Even after days since the end of the final battle and the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the wizarding world still has not seen its savior make a public appearance. This reporter has it on good information that one Harry James Potter is currently still in the infirmary at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lying unconscious. Even with the Dark Lord gone, he still manages to continue to darken our days. _

_Perhaps the Boy-Who-Lived just is not fated to live past the war. Even in defeat the Dark Lord still manages to have one final victory. But what if the one responsible for the Chosen One's condition is not the Dark Lord? It was not long ago that we believed Albus Dumbledore was planning a coup against the past Minister of Magic. Harry Potter's unconsciousness could be the work of Dumbledore's remaining followers who can finally reveal the deceased wizard's schemes now that there can no longer be any opposition from the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. This possibility is only made more plausible by the fact that our hero's visitors must gain the permission of Hogwarts' current headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, a loyal friend and ally of the late Albus Dumbledore. It is this reporter's goal to uncover the truth behind the Chosen One's unfortunate circumstance._

The article went on to give some 'facts' as to why Dumbledore and those of the Light side were the ones responsible for Harry's unconsciousness. Rita Skeeter even had the audacity to accuse the headmistress of single-handedly organizing the plan to dispose of the wizarding world's hero. McGonagall finally lost her patience with Skeeter's article and put the paper down on her desk. Her calm exterior did not show an ounce of the outrage she felt inside at Skeeter's libel. She knew she had to hedge the problem before Skeeter's lies got too out of hand. The easiest solution would have been to show that Harry was finally awake. Sadly, Madame Pomfrey was still not able to find a way to wake the boy. And McGonagall knew that not even Harry's friends' constant visits were enough to prompt the boy to consciousness. If only there was a way for them to help Harry wake up. But sadly not one of them had the answer. As McGonagall despaired over the situation she missed the twinkling blue eyes from one of the portraits behind her.

***** DMHP *****

After Draco's short visit to Harry, the blonde Slytherin had not been able to go back and visit. During the day Draco only experienced the odd throbbing sensation throughout his body, but at night the feeling increased a hundredfold, making it absolutely awful and debilitating. For the next few nights Draco stayed in his room with a silencing charm up, writhing uncontrollably and screaming the night away. After a while Draco found that the pain was starting to concentrate on a particular area. There was still immense pain throughout his body and it felt as if he was trying to break out of his own skin. However, that pain all over his body was incomparable to the pain he felt around his shoulder blades. It felt like the bones on his upper back were trying to rip through. But Draco also discovered during these nights that thinking about one person in particular almost seemed to somewhat alleviate the pain. Every time he pictured jet black hair; sparkling, green eyes; and rosy lips; fully kissable, rosy lips; the pain lessened just a tad. For a full week Draco spent his nights alone and in pain until he finally got a temporary reprieve.

But instead of finally visiting the sleeping angel in the infirmary, Draco felt it in his very being that he had to go outside. He snuck out of the Slytherin dorms and carefully maneuvered inside the castle to avoid patrolling teachers and escape into the castle grounds. Once he safely made it outside Draco started for the Forbidden Forest. On any other night the thought of going into the forest at night all alone would have been unnerving, but that night he just felt like he had to be there. He continued walking until he was finally quite a ways into the forest in a secluded clearing. Draco took a moment to admire his surroundings and how only the stars lit the night as the moon was absent from the sky. It was the night of a new moon.

And suddenly the pain flared once again. Draco once more felt as if his shoulder blades were trying to rip out of his back. His skin felt like it was melting and the itchy feeling became unbearable. As he tried to scratch at his arm to remedy at least one thing, he found that he couldn't. As he examined his skin through the blinding pain, he noticed that parts of it were silver and somehow shimmered in the starlight. But before Draco could take a closer look the pain on his back heightened even more and he could feel himself finally breaking out of his skin. Only pain registered for a while until he felt liquid trailing from his back around where his shoulder blades were. Then he realized that he could smell something salty and metallic in the air. He knew the smell was blood but what confused Draco was why the smell felt almost overpowering, as if someone shoved buckets of blood beneath his nose. The pain just kept mounting but at some point it felt like he was away from it all. He noticed how he could somehow hear soft snoring when he was nowhere near the castle and he could hear the rustling of leaves from the flight of an owl he knew to be miles away. And all of a sudden Draco realized that he could see the owl he just heard above the see of trees very far off in the distance.

Finally Draco once again felt as if he was in his own body and the pain was gone. After the absence of pain finally sunk in, the first thing that registered to Draco was the difference in his vision. Everything seemed sharper. Even with the lack of proper lighting he could see everything better than ever. It also seemed like his vision reached farther, much farther. He could hear everything in the forest and in the castle, from the sound of sleeping students to the noises of nocturnal animals. He could smell nature all around him, only the scents were more precise; like the smell of water coming from somewhere in the heart of the forest or the scent of coming rain. And there was also a really faint yet totally enticing, sweet scent coming from the direction of the castle. He didn't understand why his senses were heightened. Suddenly he realized that his line of sight was much higher than usual. Startled by this discovery he looked down at the ground. But he didn't notice the grass or the fallen leaves on the forest floor because he was too preoccupied by his scaly, silver body and his gigantic clawed feet. His clothes were in tatters all around him. He inspected his hands and all he saw were more silver scales and claws. He seemed to be scaly everywhere except a tiny portion around where he thought his belly still was. He tried to move and everything felt awkward and heavy. Then he heard a thump and he knew some part of him just made contact with the ground. He looked behind him and saw a long tail with a sort of arrow-shaped tip. Panic was starting to well in Draco. But before he could fully dread over the situation, he suddenly felt like his energy was draining, almost as if his magic was trying to pull him into unconsciousness. And he succumbed to the darkness, falling to the forest floor in a gigantic silver heap.

***** DMHP *****

"Please wake up. You're stronger than this. So please, wake up!" Every day since Harry woke up in darkness all he heard was this quiet voice constantly pleading with him to wake up. He tried to find the source of it but it seemed to be coming from everywhere, even from inside his own head. He was afraid of the darkness when he first woke but when he heard the voice he knew he was safe. He wanted to tell the voice that he was trying to wake up but he found he had no voice. He knew he needed to tell the voice that he could not wake up without its help, but he didn't know how. He also did not understand why he knew that the source of that voice was the only one who could help him leave the darkness. All he had really gathered was that every time the voice spoke, he could feel warmth and it chased away any of his fears.

After a while Harry started to remember the final battle. He remembered lying on the forest floor after he was attacked with the Cruciatus. He remembered being in King's Cross Station with the headmaster and the horrifying sight of the flayed baby. Although he was not certain whether that really happened or it was all just in his head. He did remember, however, that the Elder wand did not obey Voldemort. And the shocked look on Draco's face when he revealed the truth about the wand's ownership to Voldemort always seemed to come to mind whenever he thought of the final battle. But lately Harry has found that it was not so much the shock on Draco's face that he wanted to see, but simply just the other boy's face. He couldn't understand it. But he did not pay it much mind since all his thoughts were his only company other than the voice. Lately he started thinking that the gentle voice sounded familiar, yet he could not really give it a face. Though, he did know that it was important for him to find out who the voice belonged to. Something inside him was telling him he had to.

Once again Harry found himself waking up in the dark place. The voice had been absent for a week now and Harry was starting to feel extremely worried. He wasn't worried about being alone. Rather he was afraid that something terrible has happened to the owner of that voice. His fear confused him because he did not even have a clue who the voice's owner was at all or why he seemed to care so much about the person. And yet Harry's very being told him it was natural for him to feel that much anxiety for the unknown person.

As he sat there thinking, he noticed something in the distance that he had not seen since he first woke up. There was some sort of faint light ahead of him. Harry stood up and started in the direction of the light. He walked for about ten minutes, or so he thought, and finally he came upon a forest clearing. There was barely any light in the clearing because it was night time and there was no moon. But that did not even matter to Harry. He was simply ecstatic that after over two weeks of no light and not knowing where he was, he was finally in some sort of location that he could actually see. As he basked in the starlight, he looked around the clearing. He finally noticed something rather large in the shadow of the trees on the other side of the clearing.

He approached the mammoth, boulder-like object on the other side and found that it was actually moving very slightly. But somehow Harry knew that he had nothing to fear from this huge shadowed figure. As he got closer the figure started to take shape. What he thought was a giant boulder was actually a sleeping creature covered in silver scales. Upon closer inspection he noticed that it was actually a silver dragon. It was lying on its stomach on the forest floor and breathing softly. Harry suddenly felt the urge to touch the creature. He shifted closer to the dragon's head and reached his hand out to its snout. Just as he was about to touch it, piercing, slitted silver eyes were staring straight into his own. Harry was frozen for an instant as he saw the heart-breaking sorrow in those eyes. Something inside him felt like it was breaking when he looked into those despairing eyes. He caressed the dragon's scaly snout and the beast made a slight, almost purring, sound. The pain in those silver eyes was starting to give way to recognition, then relief, and eventually unadulterated joy. The beast then nuzzled Harry's hand and it shifted closer to him. Harry's experience with dragons should have made him a bit nervous at being that close to what appeared to be an almost, if not fully grown, silver dragon. However, Harry knew that this creature would never cause him any harm.

Harry did not know how much time passed but he did know it was long enough to make him sleepy already. The dragon seemed to sense Harry's exhaustion and shifted over a little, almost as if it was inviting Harry to lie by its side. And Harry did just that. He lay down on the ground next to the creature and snuggled up to its warmth. The scaly beast seemed to make another purring noise as if it was completely satisfied. Harry could hear the steady beating of its heart as he gave way to his sleepiness.

***** DMHP *****

When Draco finally awoke he found himself lying on the forest floor. For a moment he did not know why he was there in the first place. And then memories started coming back in snippets as he sat up and saw his shredded clothing and he started to panic. He frantically looked at his hands and feet and was extremely relieved that there were no claws or scales. He reached behind him around his lower back and was almost overjoyed by the fact that he had no tail. 'Was I just dreaming? Was the pain making me delirious? But why am I naked?' As Draco thought this a glint of silver finally caught his eye. Where the dark mark used to be was a patch of silver scales in the form of a roaring dragon. Draco was so startled that he doubled back and as he struggled not to fall over backwards, he suddenly felt pain. He didn't understand why he registered pain when he managed to catch himself before he fell. And then he realized that he did not break his almost fall with his arms. The panic came back as Draco looked behind him and found a pair of silver dragon wings.

"What the bloody hell just happened to me?" Draco managed to hiss out as he struggled not to hyperventilate. He had no idea why he was lying naked in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at night with a dragon mark made up of scales and dragon wings. It took him a good hour before he could finally breathe normally. He knew he needed help. This was one problem he could not handle on his own. But he did not know who to approach with his not so little problem. The only people he thought might be able to help him were dead. Severus and Dumbledore were no longer around to tell him why the bloody hell he was turning into a giant lizard. 'Perhaps my only choice now is the headmistress. This might be a bit too much for my parents to handle right now.'

As Draco made up his mind to ask McGonagall for help he slowly got up with great effort. Balancing with his wings on his back was somewhat tricky. He felt like he could topple over at any minute. He stayed in the clearing for a good while as he tried to accustom himself to walking with his wings. When dawn's first light was starting to show, Draco finally managed to walk properly like the well-bred Malfoy heir that he was. But no matter how composed he was once again in his manner of walking, he could not get his mind off of how he was going to avoid embarrassment striding into the castle completely naked. His family's defection may have spared them from Azkaban and consequently from falling out of the elite circles, but he knew that it could not save him from public humiliation in showing up at the castle bare. But then again it might not be so bad since he was quite aware that most of the student population would find his current appearance quite appealing. Then he remembered that there was the wing problem. He did not want all of Hogwarts to be privy to his current condition. And so Draco walked on to the castle with every intention of sneaking into Slytherin and finding his wand to cast a concealment charm before paying a visit to the headmistress.

***** DMHP *****

Minerva McGonagall was just about to leave her office after her upsetting perusal of the Prophet when a knock came on her door. She knew it was quite early for anyone to visit her, but she bade the person on the other side to enter nonetheless. To say that she was surprised to see Draco Malfoy on the other side of the door was a complete understatement. Instead, the headmistress was momentarily speechless to see the young man. She noticed that right after the war he was looking quite unwell. However, as he stood before her now she knew that he must have been feeling much better. The young Slytherin looked nothing short of immaculate. His skin had a healthy glow and his pale cheeks finally had color to them once again. His hair was once again perfectly coiffed and his robes were in perfect order. His eyes, however, still held turbulent emotions. But if the boy was once again paying attention to his appearance, then something must have changed.

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall finally managed to say when she came out of her short inspection of the blonde.

"Thank you, professor," Draco responded as he closed the door behind him and came forward and sat on one of the chairs that Professor McGonagall indicated in front of her desk.

"What brings you here this early?" the headmistress asked.

"Well, professor, I came because I am in need of your help." Draco did not want to beat around the bush. For such shocking revelations he thought it would be best to simply put it on the table as quickly as possible. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow slightly and Draco took that as a sign to continue. "I've been having some…pains… lately that I didn't quite understand until I woke up this morning. I believe you might be the only person that could help me with it." As Draco started his explanation he found his resolve slowly wavering. He did not know how the headmistress was going to react. 'What if she won't let me see Harry after this? WAIT! Why did I just think that? What does it matter if she forbids me from seeing Potter? Now is not the time for this, Draco.'

As Draco continued with his inner musings Professor McGonagall spoke up. "Why don't you go to Madame Pomfrey if you are ill, Mr. Malfoy? A mediwitch might be the better choice for a consultant than the headmistress if you are experiencing inexplicable pains."

Before Professor McGonagall could continue, Draco interrupted her and said, "But I don't think Madame Pomfrey can help with my problem, professor." When he saw that Professor McGonagall was about to tell him otherwise once again, Draco stood up. "Please, professor, just let me show you something before you say anything more." Draco knew the only way to make the woman understand the situation was to show her his 'transformation.' So he started to undo his school robes. He noticed that as he was disrobing the somewhat curious look on the headmistress' face slowly turned to outrage. Draco momentarily thought that perhaps his concealment charm had fallen or the bindings he put on his extra appendages had broken until the headmistress began her angry tirade.

"Now, see here, Mr. Malfoy. Hogwarts is a prestigious institution for aspiring young witches and wizards, not a place for debauchery. And you can hardly expect your headmistress to participate in any acts of lewdness that you wish to initiate. As a pureblood wizard you should know that decorum dictates for you to…" As the woman continued to splutter in front of him with an angry blush on her face, her words finally registered in Draco's brain and he started to laugh hysterically. Professor McGonagall noticed the hysterically laughing young man and stopped mid-rant. Draco's wild laughter made her see that she made a grave mistake in her assumption and she was horrified at the mortifying situation.

When Draco finally got control of his laughter, he coughed and reassured the headmistress. "Believe me, professor, I do not wish to 'initiate any acts of lewdness' in this office whatsoever. However, I do need to take off the top half of my school robes to show you the problem." Professor McGonagall still looked too horror-stricken at the situation to respond, so Draco simply opted to continue disrobing and show her his wings. When he finally managed to get the top half of his uniform off he waved his wand and casted a couple of nonverbal spells to remove the charms he casted on his wings. They became visible and the bindings he placed on them disappeared and they automatically spread out and twitched slightly. Draco just stood in front of the headmistress, waiting for her to say anything.

Professor McGonagall's embarrassment quickly gave way to shock and awe at what she was seeing before her. The first thing she thought of was how beautiful Draco's wings looked. And then she saw that the boy looked increasingly nervous the longer she went without speaking. So she asked the first question that came to mind. "When did you first discover this Mr. Malfoy?"

At the headmistress' question Draco found himself telling her everything about the pains and the eventual transformation. He told her about collapsing in the dungeons and waking up in the forest. He did not really know how afraid he was until he found himself telling Professor McGonagall everything except his nightly visits to Harry, when normally he would be more elusive with his answers. When Draco finished his long explanation, he waited for the headmistress to tell him what might be the matter with him.

"I'm sorry to say that I don't have the answers you seek, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps you should ask your parents because they might know more about the current circumstances." Draco was afraid that she was going to say that but he said nothing and just let her continue. Professor McGonagall, however, noticed the brief worry on Draco's face when she mentioned his parents. "As unpleasant as it may be for you to approach them, they might be the only ones who could help you. Considering the situation, the only thing I could offer you is to go home for a while and talk to your parents. I will give you special permission to leave school grounds to sort all of this out. Since regular sessions will not be starting until the first of September you have until then to find your answers. I'm terribly sorry I cannot help you more than this, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm afraid I am as much in the dark as you are in this one."

"Thank you for your time, professor." Although Draco felt hopeless after finding out the headmistress could do nothing for him, he still felt a little better about having told at least one person of the situation. Draco bound his wings once again and made them invisible. Then he put on his now noticeably larger school robes and spelled them to look normal as he placed the final concealment charm on. He bade farewell to the headmistress and left her office. Neither one of them noticed the once again twinkling blue eyes behind the headmistress.

When Draco reached his room, he simply lay in his bed for a few hours. It was Sunday so he was able to stay in his room without anyone trying to come and get him. Draco managed to doze off and when he woke up he noticed that it was already dusk. He sat up and thought about Professor McGonagall's suggestion of going home. He knew that it was the most logical solution at the moment so he resigned himself to confronting his parents about his problem. He knew that it was not going to be an easy discussion.

Draco got up from his bed and started to pack. He tried not to think of the oncoming talk with his parents as he moved about. Instead, he found himself thinking of a green-eyed angel. He overheard the Weasel and the Mudblood a couple days ago talking in class. They were saying that Harry's temperature was rising. As his mind was finally no longer too fuzzy with pain, Draco found himself worrying over Harry. When he was done packing he came to the decision of visiting Harry one last time before leaving for home in the morning. He made a note to pay another visit to the headmistress' office after dinner to inform her of his plans.

***** DMHP *****

Dinner and his second visit to Professor McGonagall's office were a blur to Draco. Now he found himself making the same trek he made every night except for last week since Harry's stay in the infirmary began. Somehow he grew more excited with each step he took. He did not know why but he did not really care to find out at the moment. He already had too much going on with his sudden transformation. Contemplating all the weird feelings he had every time he visited Potter or why he even wanted to visit the boy in the first place would just be asking for a headache right then.

Draco finally reached the infirmary and he crept inside. When he reached Harry's bed he immediately said, "I'm sorry." He surprised himself at that declaration and thought about why he felt the need to apologize to the unresponsive boy. And he found that his mind came up with quite a few answers: he was leaving Harry for home, he didn't visit last week, and Harry was still unconscious. The last one confused him because he did not know why he should feel guilty over Harry's unconsciousness when he was not even aware of the reason for it in the first place.

As his thoughts became too confusing Draco just stopped thinking altogether and simply focused on the beautiful sleeping face in front of him. He hoisted himself up beside Harry on the bed and held one of Harry's hands gently in his own. He was content to sit there for a while with Harry by his side. And then he started to talk to Harry like he usually did during his visits. He always started with asking Harry to wake up. And when he got no response like always he started to talk about anything and everything. As the one-sided conversation continued, Draco just knew he had to tell Harry that he was leaving for a while and won't be coming to visit. But the thought of actually telling Harry that made an uncomfortable feeling well up in his chest, but he blamed it as just a lingering sensation from the sudden transformation. And as he sat there talking to the boy, he once again found himself constantly drawn to soft-looking pink lips. 'I wonder how soft they really are.'

***** DMHP *****

Harry woke up from his slumber and was scared to see that his new companion and the clearing were gone and he was once again plunged into darkness. He was about to cry when he heard the most wonderful sound. The absent voice was finally back. It was currently telling him about new brooms on the market. He felt inexplicably happy knowing that the owner of the voice sounded unharmed. He was content to simply listen for a couple hours to the constant gentle murmurs that surrounded him with feelings of warmth and safety. And then he noticed that the topic of conversation was starting to shift and the voice started to sound a bit anxious and he no longer wanted to listen to what it was saying.

"Potter, I have to leave for a while. I don't know when I'll be back. And I don't think I'll be able to visit while I'm gone. I'm really sorry but I will come back." 'NO! Don't leave me!' Harry kept screaming those words in his mind, but unfortunately he still could not say anything out loud. Tears of frustration were forming in his eyes and he finally could no longer hold back his grief over the oncoming abandonment and just cried. And the voice was none the wiser.

***** DMHP *****

"Even when I go I'll keep hoping you wake up soon. Please, Potter, just wake up." As Draco continued to plead with the unmoving Harry, he started to feel an even stronger urge to find out if the boy's lips were really as soft as he imagined they would be. The knowledge that he would not be seeing Harry for an indefinite length of time just spurred the urge on even more. And so Draco shifted beside Harry on the bed and started to bring his face closer to the other boy's. As he got closer to Harry he could not help but notice the scent coming off the sleeping boy. He could smell freshly cut lilies and the clean scent of spring water. But there was another scent in the mix, a scent Draco found vaguely familiar and intoxicating. It smelled slightly sweet and was growing stronger by the minute until all he could think of was getting as close to Harry as possible just to continue breathing in the stimulating scent. He was finally nose to nose with Harry and he licked his lips slightly. He wanted so badly to kiss Harry but a part of him felt guilty about it. 'What if he doesn't want me to kiss him? I feel like I'm taking advantage of him.' As Draco struggled with his mild guilt, he finally gave in to his urges and whispered a quick apology to Harry as if saying sorry would absolve him of his wrong. Draco lightly touched his lips to Harry's and closed his eyes. Savoring the gentle contact, he was delighted to find that Harry's lips felt and _tasted_ even more heavenly than he could have ever imagined. Before he drew away from Harry, Draco briefly licked Harry's lips. When he opened his eyes he was shocked by what he had just done. 'Bloody hell! I just kissed Potter and I think I enjoyed it.'

Draco stared wide-eyed for a moment at Harry's face. When he snapped out of his trance he noticed that once again he was awake to see the sunrise. 'When I go home I really should find time to sleep more.' Thinking of his home made another uncomfortable twinge well up in his chest. He said his goodbye to Harry and left another kiss on the back of the sleeping boy's hand. He hopped off the bed and went out of the infirmary. When he returned to his room he gathered his trunks and started to head out of the castle. He informed McGonagall that he would be leaving for Hogsmeade at dawn to avoid all the other students and their questions. Draco left too soon to notice that Harry shifted slightly on the infirmary bed when the blonde moved off of it.

***** DMHP *****

The voice grew fainter and Harry continued to cry. Then he felt lips that were soft and warm on his that were gone too soon in his opinion and the voice came back just long enough to say a final farewell. For a few moments Harry continued to cry in the dark until he finally realized that his tears were useless unless the voice's owner actually saw them. So he resolved himself to finding the person. That kiss he felt, or he thought he felt, had to mean the person at least somewhat cared for him. He stood up in the dark and wiped the tear stains on his cheeks. He had no idea how to find the source of the voice but he knew he desperately wanted to find it. He stood there for a while simply thinking of how much he wanted to see the face behind the voice when he saw light in the distance once again. If it led him to the clearing again, he just knew that his new friend would be able to help him. He was sure of it.

Harry followed the light. The walk took much longer than the last time and the light at the end seemed so much brighter. 'Perhaps it's morning in the clearing.' And then Harry heard someone calling to him. The voice sounded a bit different but Harry found it familiar still. In his happiness to hear someone calling for him he thought it was only his imagination playing tricks on him. When he finally reached the light though, he saw that he was not in the clearing. Instead he was just engulfed by blinding light and for a moment he felt like he was leaving his body. And then the feeling was gone and he felt like he had just been dropped back into his own body…HARD.

* * *

><p>As always, thank you for reading. We find out more about the bad guy in the next chapter unless my muses take me in a different direction. Ciao!<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

Thanks to those that left reviews. And also thanks for everyone that added this story to their favorites. That made me absolutely ecstatic! So please enjoy this next chapter.

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

Draco apparated in front of the ornate gates of the Malfoy estate. As he stood in front of his ancestral home, he took the time to look at the majestic structure. Everything about the estate screamed wealth, power, and influence. Without a doubt the family living in the estate was bred from old money and belonged to the privileged upper crust of society. As the sun slowly rose behind the mansion, Draco witnessed the gradual illumination of the manor grounds. The whole place seemed to come to life during the dawning of a new day. Looking at his home now, if Draco had not been there as witness, he never would have believed that it ever suffered damage during the Second Wizarding War.

He reached his hand toward the wrought-iron gates before him. The gates were enchanted so that those who reside in the manor or were invited into it would be granted entrance and others simply pass it by as if the grandiose home was not there at all. When the gates opened before him, Draco began to trudge along the path leading to the house. He passed by an immaculately kept lawn. After the war, Draco's mother immediately hired a renowned group of wizard _artistes_, as the pompous asses liked to call themselves, to help repair the damage done to his childhood prison. Now the grounds of Malfoy Manor were as splendid as ever. The grounds were his mother's Eden, teeming with dazzlingly beautiful flowers, perpetually flowing fountains, marble statues of important wizarding figures, and all manner of other things to make the grounds look as lavish as ever.

However, Draco saw nothing of the beauty and splendor of the grounds as he kept his eyes solely focused on the mansion itself. He knew the upcoming confrontation with his parents was going to be difficult. Even after the end of the war and the fall of Voldemort, Draco's father still retained his bigoted beliefs of pureblood supremacy. The only thing keeping the family from ignominy and falling from the upper circles was the fact that Lucius Malfoy was no longer as open in his dogmatic display. Draco's latest self-discovery was not going to be kindly received by his father.

When he finally ascended the front steps, Draco moved to open the massive doors of his home. But before his hand even touched the elaborately carved wood, one of the doors opened and he saw a frail-looking house elf holding it. It was Draco's personal house-elf, Dipsy. Even after all the years that Draco mistreated her when he still followed his father's primitive beliefs, she had stayed fiercely loyal to him. By the end of his sixth year Draco started treating the elf much better. And although she still looked like she was about to break at any moment, she no longer bore any marks of the old Draco's brand of 'discipline.' As Draco looked at Dipsy now, he briefly contemplated how many things changed after the end of his sixth year. And it was all because of one fateful night and the most stunning pair of enraged green eyes.

Draco was brought out of his musings by a very soft, slightly high-pitched voice. "Welcome home, Master Draco. What may Dipsy be doing for Master Draco, Sir?"

As the house-elf finished her inquiry and straightened herself out from her low bow, Draco thought of the time and knew that it was still much too early for him to talk to his parents since it was barely dawn. "Thank you, Dipsy. There is nothing I require at the moment. Return to your quarters for now. I shall summon you when I have need of you."

"Of course, Master Draco. Please be excusing Dipsy now, Sir." And in an instant the elf gave another bow and popped out of Draco's sight.

Draco stood admiring the entry hall of the manor for a while longer until he finally felt days of exhaustion creeping up on his consciousness. Before he had the chance to collapse by the front doors, Draco dragged himself to his quarters in the upper floors. At least he would be somewhat rested for when he was to have his talk with his parents.

***** DMHP *****

Draco woke up to the sun streaming through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his chambers. He was too tired to draw any of the curtains around his four-poster bed closed before he passed out and since he was not at home most of the time, the curtains on his windows were always open to let light in. He squinted for a few seconds as his eyes reluctantly grew accustomed to the light. With a groan of displeasure Draco accepted being awake and sat up in bed. He found that he was still fully clothed and he was on top of the sheets. 'At least I made it to my bed.'

As his bleary eyes took in his surroundings, he realized that everything in his quarters were as he left them. His massive bed had the same black comforter with multiple white and green pillows with intricate stitching and arranged to give the bedroom's centerpiece a simple yet classy look. There was a polished wood armoire in front of his bed and a high shelf to the left of it with various personal effects. There was an absence of family photos in Draco's room. To one side of the bed was a door leading to Draco's closet. A hallway on the wall opposite the bed led to the rest of Draco's chambers. It took a moment for his eyes to finally focus. When they did he simply sat on his bed and looked to the other side to see outside one of his humongous bedroom windows. He had a gorgeous view of what lay behind the mansion. There before him was an almost endless sea of trees, only disrupted by a mountain range somewhere in the very far distance. He saw a bird take flight somewhere near the mountains and knew that in the past he never would have been able to see that far. It was then his wings made themselves known as they sort of twitched uncontrollably for a few seconds. It was almost as if they were protesting against the restraints and trying to stretch themselves as far as possible. Draco shuddered momentarily as pleasant sensations briefly coursed through his new bound appendages struggling and rubbing against their restraints.

When his wings were again under his control, the first thought that came to Draco's mind was of a green-eyed boy lying alone on an uncomfortable infirmary bed at Hogwarts instead of his upcoming conversation with his parents. He was getting used to constantly thinking of Harry Potter that he no longer questioned it. He simply accepted it as part of his daily routine. Knowing that it was better to confront his parents sooner rather than later, however, Draco put all thoughts of Harry in the back of his mind for the moment. He summoned Dipsy and immediately he heard a crack and saw his loyal house-elf appear by the side of his grand bed.

"You summoned Dipsy, Master Draco? How may Dipsy be serving Master Draco, Sir?" the house-elf asked politely as she took a deep bow, which made her floppy ears brush against the black carpeted floor.

"Are my parents awake yet, Dipsy?"

"Yes, Master Draco. Master Lucius and the Mistress are almost being done having breakfast in the dining room. Master Lucius will be heading into his study soon and Mistress Narcissa has having expressed a desire to take a walk in the gardens."

"Have you informed them of my return yet?"

"Not yet, Master Draco. Is Master Draco wanting Dipsy to tell the Master and the Mistress of his arrival, Sir?"

"Please do, Dipsy. And tell my parents that I require a moment of their time. Tell them I shall meet them in the downstairs parlor near the south side gardens." Although Draco gave Dipsy the orders calmly, he was far from feeling calm on the inside. A part of him wanted to tell Dipsy to keep his presence from his parents. But as a house-elf of the Malfoy estate, Dipsy would eventually have to inform his father, the Master of the manor.

Dipsy noticed the tension in her Master's body but she knew it was not her place to ask, only to serve her Master to the best of her ability. "Dipsy will having it be done right away, Master Draco." And with another deep bow Dipsy once again popped out of Draco's sight.

Breathing deeply to help calm himself, Draco hopped off his bed and started to get himself ready. He went through his closet door and started to search for a suitable ensemble. He took out some plain looking black robes made from the finest velvet-like material and changed into them. He then took out his shrunken trunks from the pockets of his discarded school robes but he did not bother enlarging them again. He simply pocketed them into his new robes. He exited his bedroom and passed the bathroom into the receiving area. Before completely exiting his chambers, however, something caught his eye through the open door of his study across the receiving area.

He entered through the study door. All the walls were lined with shelves and filled with ancient looking tomes. Since his parents were not ones for family bonding moments, Draco occupied all his free time with reading ever since his childhood. His study was packed with all manner of books that he acquired from travels and random purchases or as presents. As he stood in his study he searched for what caught his attention in the first place. When he finally found it he saw it was a large leather-bound tome with no title or any other distinguishing marks other than the golden patterns on the spine that caught Draco's attention. When Draco opened it he found that the pages were velum and the inkused was in fact made from crushed gems. 'It must be quite old. I don't remember having it though. Maybe Dipsy found it and thought I might like it.' His house-elf had a habit of bringing Draco tomes that she thought he might enjoy. Making a note to thank Dipsy the next time he saw her, Draco shrunk the tome and pocketed it as well before heading out into the main hall and toward the parlor.

***** DMHP *****

When Draco arrived at the parlor, his parents were already seated on two overstuffed leather chairs waiting for him. As Draco entered Lucius looked up from the document he was scanning and Narcissa looked up from what looked to be like another invitation to a garden party or other. Draco made a very slight bow with his head before he greeted his parents.

"Father, Mother, good morning. How have you been while I was away?" Draco knew decorum dictated that pleasantries be dealt with first before discussing heavier topics. And buying himself more time did not sound very unappealing.

"Good morning, Draco. Your mother and I have been well. But tell us, what brings you back home before the end of term?" As his father asked the question, Draco saw the narrowing of the older wizard's eyes. No doubt his father was expecting him to confess to getting into trouble at Hogwarts and getting expelled. If only that were his problem.

"Well, Father, Mother, there is a matter of great import that has happened during my most recent stay at Hogwarts. I assure you that I have not been expelled and there are absolutely no problems with my studies. What I have come to discuss is an entirely different matter." As he finished his statement, Draco saw the formation of a tiny crease between his mother's brows and the slight tightening of his father's lips.

His parents made no attempt at speech, however, so Draco took it as permission to continue. "A few days after my return to Hogwarts I started to feel quite unwell until I was made helpless by excruciating pain that overcame my body." Draco saw worry appear in his mother's eyes but she still did not speak. "It went on for a week until I found myself waking up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. I felt different and when I took a closer look I _was_ different."

His mother finally spoke up and asked, "What are you trying to tell us, darling?"

Draco looked into her eyes and saw genuine concern. And then he looked into his father's eyes and all he saw was cold indifference. Without answering his mother's question, Draco began to undo the top half of his robes. As he shrugged out of part of his clothing he took out his wand and took off the restraints. As if appreciating the freedom, Draco felt his wings hum with pleasure. However, he fought the urge to shudder while standing in the face of his parents' scrutiny. Draco stretched his wings as far as he could and he heard his mother's sharp gasp. When he looked toward her, she had one of her dainty hands over her lips and a shocked expression on her lovely face. But something about the look on her face made Draco momentarily think that her shock encompassed more than just his new body parts. When he looked toward his father he noticed that the cold indifference had transformed into furious disapproval.

Draco said nothing as he stood there, only observing his parents' reactions. It seemed like an eternity before either his mother or father spoke and his wings started to twitch agitatedly. Finally he saw the look on his father's face change once again into a blank mask and his mother's shock had once again turned to worry. Draco noticed his mother furtively casting concerned glances between his father and himself. While looking straight into Draco's eyes, Lucius snapped his fingers and Dipsy appeared.

When the house-elf popped into the parlor she was immediately met by the sight of a winged Draco. She stared wide-eyed at her Master before Lucius caught her attention with another snap. Shaking herself out of her stupor, Dipsy bowed low to Lucius and asked, "What may Dipsy be doing for you, Master Lucius, Sir?"

Draco tried to remain calm as his father continued to look at him. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating profusely. His throat was going dry and he could feel his skin itching like it did a few nights ago. His wings were twitching even more the longer his father continued to just stare blankly at him. And then Lucius spoke. And even though the Malfoy patriarch spoke in a quiet tone, Draco heard his words almost as if he were screaming them.

"Dipsy, please escort this young man off the premises. And see to it that someone comes to change the wards around the estate."

Both Dipsy and Narcissa let out sharp gasps at Lucius' harsh words. But Draco remained silent as he witnessed his father callously disown him. When Dipsy made no move to escort Draco, Lucius gave her a sharp kick in the side and the house-elf let out a pained squeak. Draco turned to his mother for an instant but he knew she would not speak. He smiled ruefully at her and then turned hardened eyes to his father.

"That won't be necessary. I will see myself off the grounds, Lord Malfoy. Have a pleasant day." As Draco spoke the words, he felt as if they were not coming from his own mouth. He felt very removed from the scene before him. He bowed to both Lucius and Narcissa and turned on his heel. He spared no backward glance to the couple and walked out of the parlor and the manor with his head held high and his wings proudly in display. Perhaps it was finally time for him to use some connections that he had formed when he started helping with the rebuilding efforts without his parents' knowledge.

***** DMHP *****

Hermione woke up with a feeling that she had to be in the infirmary immediately, so she hurriedly got a hold of both Ginny and Ron and dragged them with her to see their sleeping friend. When they reached the infirmary Madame Pomfrey was just about to examine Harry. The three friends hastened to her side and crowded around Harry's bed.

As Madame Pomfrey prepared to cast the first of her usual diagnostic spells, she let out a loud gasp. She saw Harry's face frown slightly before the placid expression returned to his face. For an instant she considered whether she was imagining the flash of discomfort on Harry's face or not until she heard Hermione squeak out Harry's name.

"Harry, mate…?" Ron spoke up in a disbelieving tone, unwilling to get his hopes too high over Harry's possible awakening.

"Harry, Harry! Please wake up! Harry!" Ginny also noticed Harry stirring and called to him louder than the others. She kept urging the sleeping savior to awaken. She was about to grab Harry's shoulder and shake him awake when his eyes scrunched tight before they started to slowly flutter open.

***** DMHP *****

Harry's body registered nothing but pain for a few seconds. He felt stiff and sore all over. Someone was calling to him. The voice grew louder and louder as he was coming to. The pain was already receding. As he attempted to look around him to see the face behind the voice he knew there was too much bright light around and instinctively shut his eyes tighter before allowing them to open.

When he finally managed to open his eyes the first face he saw was a pale-skinned girl with a few freckles on her pretty face and bright red hair. Her blue eyes were staring intently at his face. He knew that face but full recognition was slow in coming. But Harry was simply glad that he finally saw the mysterious voice's face. And yet, as Harry thought this he felt a minor pang in his chest, but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came and Harry thought nothing of it.

***** DMHP *****

The dark-haired young man was once again in the shady streets of Knockturn Alley. A couple of weeks have passed since his first visit to Borgin and Burke's. As he became a regular visitor to the seedy Dark Arts shop, he also befriended the unsuspecting Borgin. As he thought about how he had managed to charm his way into the daily life of the gullible man, he could not help but let out a derisive snort. He expected more of a challenge. A wizard who dealt in the Dark Arts and proclaimed to be an expert on dark artifacts should be more vigilant and less trusting of handsome young men with charming smiles and eager curiosity for anything related to the Dark Arts.

The youth maneuvered himself through the eerie streets and arrived at the aforementioned shop. When he stepped through the door, the bell rang and Borgin looked up from the shop counter. The dark-haired young man put on a friendly face and gave out an easy smile. The shop owner bowed his head slightly and that was enough of an indication for the youth to come forward.

"Good morning, Mr. Borgin." The young man greeted the oily-haired owner as per the usual start of their conversations for the past few days.

"What are you up to today, Damien?" asked the shop owner in his oily voice.

"Actually, Sir, I was wondering if you might be able to assist me in my search for a particular dark item." Damien knew it was finally time to initiate the first part of his plan. He had to establish rapport with the shop owner first before he could go ahead with his schemes. If he was able to get Borgin to hand over what he needed willingly, then there was less of a chance of his plans being discovered before it was time.

"And what item might that be, young man?" Borgin had a look of bemusement on his face. For the past couple of weeks this dark-haired youth had been frequenting his shop. Everyday the young man looked around his shop and observed his wares, paying close attention to some of the musty looking tomes on the shelves. Borgin immediately knew the youth was searching for something. And when Damien Marcus finally approached him a few days ago he was surprised when all the lad asked about was the history behind some of his goods. Nevertheless the shop owner saw no harm in satisfying the lad's curiosity and something about the young man made him feel enough at ease to have a pleasant conversation, or as pleasant a conversation people can have over dark artifacts with gruesome pasts. But now his initial suspicions were finally confirmed and Borgin was curious about what Damien needed.

"What I'm looking for is in fact a muggle artifact. It is called the Malleaus Maleficarum. I heard about it a while back and got curious about its contents. Most muggles nowadays no longer believe in witchcraft, but a few centuries back many people read that book and believed otherwise. I merely want to see for myself what a muggle has to say about wizarding kind." As he talked about the Malleus, Damien furtively observed the look on Borgin's face. He saw the fleeting look of surprise on Borgin's face. He was fairly certain that Borgin had the book. A few years back, before Damien disappeared from wizarding Britain, his father mentioned how he left the Malleus in Borgin and Burke's a long time ago and most dark wizards were too proud to have use for something created by muggles, much less purchase it. Damien then entertained the possibility of Borgin having gotten rid of the muggle book. He was not able to continue on that train of thought, however, as Borgin asked him a question.

"What need would you have of a muggle tome, Damien?" Something about Borgin's tone and expression convinced Damien that the book was, in fact, still in Borgin's possession.

"As I've mentioned, Sir, I am merely curious." When Damien saw the brief look of suspicion on Borgin's face, he knew he had to tread carefully. "I was reading some wizard's memoir a few days back and that book was mentioned. He attributed his daughter's death and the death of many other inexperienced young witches to that book. I simply wanted to know how one book led Muggles to killing our kind." Damien saw Borgin's suspicious look slowly disappear and he knew he just needed one more little push. "Is it actually impossible to find the book, Mr. Borgin? I had hoped that you might have information on it since it is sort of a dark book."

If Borgin felt indignant at Damien's last comment he did not show it. Instead, he simply told the young man what he knew. "The book was written by a Muggle Inquisitor. It talks about how to spot and interrogate witches. I'm afraid I myself haven't read the book, so I can't tell you much more than that." For a moment Damien thought that Borgin was not going to say any more on the subject. He was prepared to put the man under the Imperius curse to get the book but the old man continued. "However, coincidentally I found a copy of that book years ago. I keep it in the back room since most of my customers would be quite displeased seeing a muggle item on the shelves. I myself don't understand why I kept such a ridiculous thing."

"Would it be possible for me to see the book?" Damien was careful not to sound too eager at the prospect of finally getting his hands on the Malleus.

"Come around the counter. I'll show you the book in the back. Can't have other customers knowing I carry muggle items."

"Of course." Damien followed Borgin into the back room of the shop. At the end of the room was a shelf teeming with dark tomes. But one book in particular looked dustier than the others as if it had been left there untouched for years. Borgin grabbed the dusty book and was about to hand it to Damien. Before he could give the young man the book, Borgin momentarily thought the young man was someone else. For an instant he remembered another charming, handsome, dark-haired youth whom he had been acquainted with in the distant past. It was around the end of that acquaintance that Borgin happened to find the Malleus in the shop's back room, just lying on a table. He never thought anything of it before so he simply left it on a shelf. Looking at Damien now, Borgin noticed the similarities between the lad and the young Tom Riddle. But truly, what harm could a young man do with a mere muggle book? And so Borgin handed Damien the Malleus.

Damien leafed through the pages. He made sure to make himself seem fascinated by what was on the pages. He put the book down on a nearby table and made sure Borgin could see the plain Latin inscriptions as well. After all, Damien knew the book would only reveal its true nature once the one who was meant to use it willed it to do so. As Damien made himself look completely engrossed by the Malleus, Borgin tried hard to see something other than curiosity and fascination on the young man's face. When he saw nothing else he came up beside the youth and said the words Damien had been wanting to hear. "Take the book with you, Damien. I don't want that muggle artifact in my shop any longer."

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I felt bad for Draco so it was hard to write.<p> 


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